Head Girl
by Lady Dudley
Summary: Jackie gets introspective about Michael's death. Mild angst. Michael/Jackie


**A/N: Thank you for the encouragement for my last story ("Like She Belonged"). This is another Michael/Jackie story, this one with some hints of Robbie/Jackie. This is set after _Death Trap_ and some time towards the beginning of _Fire, Burn_. I can't remember the name of the episode where Taggart gives Jackie the "Head Girl" pin but I do remember she wasn't really very impressed. Hope you enjoy it! :) (Btw, I do actually like Burke, and I know he and Jackie do eventually get on, but it was very strained in the beginning.)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did Michael would still be alive.**

**_Head Girl_**

"_If you love your job __so__ much, why do you have to drag yourself out of bed every morning?"_

"_Whatever you got away with in the past, __**don't**__ answer me back like that!"_

"_The King is dead, long live the King – __**this**__ is the new regime!"_

Jackie sat alone in her living room, her discarded cup of hot chocolate sitting on the table in front of her growing colder by the minute. Her head hurt and she had been attempting to unwind, but nothing had helped. Perhaps she should have just started with the booze, she mused. Brian's words from that morning and snatches of subsequent conversations with Burke continued to spin around her head.

Robbie's words about going on leave came back to her, but she couldn't do it. Couldn't permit herself to do so as that would be admitting that she couldn't handle the fact that Michael was gone. If she walked away from her job now she might never walk back again, on some level it was good for her to push herself to walk through those doors. To remember that he was gone and he was never coming back. Ever.

A lone tear made its way down her cheek and she dashed it away. Angry at herself for feeling this way, she glanced at the pile of photos in a box next to her drink. Her favourite photo rested on top of the pile, it had been taken at one of the station's Christmas parties. She couldn't remember who had taken it, probably Stuart, but she was glad they had. Michael had his arm around her as she laughed into his shoulder about something he had said. Michael was looking down at her with that amused and, ever so slightly, cheeky grin that she had loved.

She picked up the photo and stared at it for a long moment. _That_ was why she had to drag herself out of bed every morning; because every morning brought the crushing realisation that she wouldn't be seeing Michael. Instead she would be confronted with Burke; the man she had unconsciously resented the moment he had stepped into the room. At the time she had been unable to explain the sudden dislike she had taken to the man, but she had gradually come to realise that it was because he wasn't Michael. And partly because Michael himself didn't seem to like the man. Now he served as a reminder of when she had lost him, the reminder that he was gone, that everything had changed.

She hadn't realised how much she had needed him, how much she had taken for granted that he would always be there, until he was gone.

All she was left with was a huge feeling of guilt. Guilt that she hadn't gotten his final message in time, she still tortured herself with the thought that if she had he might still have been alive. But mostly guilt that she now felt so empty and alone. She was married, for Heaven's sake; she shouldn't feel so desolate now that her friend had died.

But his death had only served to make her face up to herself: yes, she felt some affection for Brian but it had been nothing compared to how she felt about Michael. Or even Robbie. Marrying Brian had been the simple way out of a confusing and difficult situation. Since she couldn't choose between Michael and Robbie, she chose someone completely different; a decision that had been unfair on all of them. Perhaps herself most of all, when Michael died she had realised that regardless of what she might have felt for Robbie, or even Brian, Michael had always been number one in her life. Even so, in the hierarchy of her heart Robbie did come next and it was him that she had turned to for comfort following Michael's death. His grip on her hand as they sat watching them take Michael's body away had been the only thing giving her enough strength to remain where she was and not run off screaming. And his presence by her side had been the only comfort immediately following that day, especially at the funeral.

She sighed: the funeral; where she had finally admitted to herself and everyone else that she had been in love with the man she had come to bury. Loved him for all the qualities she had extolled him for: his bravery, his honesty, his friendship. Her world really was just that little bit darker since he had died.

She looked up at the ceiling, her eyes once again brimming with tears. _Dammit Michael!_ She cursed inwardly, _I need you!_

She closed her eyes, causing a few of her tears to fall, "Michael..." she whispered, her voice sounding strange to her own ears: broken, lost. He had been her anchor, now she needed to find another way to ground herself.

She looked back down at the photo, she never would forget him, would probably never find anyone else who would be able to hold such sway over her without even trying, but she would be able to pull through this. She had told him once that this was all part of the hazards of the job, never dreaming that she would be the one left behind.

She thought of him as he had been that day, gripping the steering wheel of the car as he drove her home, trying to convince her that he was fine. Other memories began to resurface out of the gloom of her last memories of him, lying cold and muddied at Langbank.

She picked up the other photos and flicked through them once more. This time using them to remind her of what she had had, not what she had lost. She may have lost his presence in her life, but no one could ever take him away from her completely.

She paused to look at another photo, this one taken by Stuart who had been so excited about his new camera. They had both been looking down at a file, Michael with a hand on the back of her chair as he leant over her shoulder, when a flash had suddenly gone off. She remembered the chewing out Stuart had received for that, mostly due to Michael's embarrassment at being caught unawares.

The memory made her smile and she decided that tonight she would go to bed with that happy memory in mind. As she slipped the photos back into the box she caught sight of a small pin, shaking her head in wonder she picked it up. It was the Head Girl pin that Jim Taggart had given her. She was about to place it back in the box when she remembered something Michael had said to her when he had found her at her desk, glowering at the pin.

"_Don't worry Jackie," he had said, coming up behind her, "you'll make it to Sergeant, one day you might even out rank me," he had added with a flash of humour. Seeing that she had remained unamused he had crouched down by her chair and caught her eye, "But whether you do or not, you'll always be Head Girl to me." _

His cheeks had gotten a little pink after that admission, but he hadn't retracted it, or even laughed it off as a joke. That hadn't been his way, he had meant it. He had always believed in her, Jackie curled her fingers tightly around the pin; perhaps she would take the pin in with her to work to remind her of that whenever things seemed overwhelming. She smiled at the irony that she had found something to ground herself on again, built upon similar foundations to the last: Michael's trust and belief in her. But this time it would stronger, she decided, as it wouldn't rely solely on his presence in her life any more. But in his memory, the one piece of him she wouldn't ever lose.

She glanced at the photos again, yes, he had always believed in her and she wasn't going to let him down.


End file.
